


Underneath the Armor (The Luscious Jackson Reunion Remix)

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Batgirl (Comics)
Genre: 5 Things, F/M, Hugs, Pre-Reboot, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-21 23:53:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1568471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four times Dick hugged Steph and one time it turned into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Underneath the Armor (The Luscious Jackson Reunion Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amathela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Heavily Armoured](https://archiveofourown.org/works/541265) by [amathela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela). 



> Pre-reboot. Thanks to S. for looking it over.

1.

After the explosion, Steph finds herself pressed up against Batman's ( _Dick's_ ) chest, his arms tight around her, one hand cradling the back of her head.

It takes a couple of seconds for the reality of it to sink in, because Batman? Not a hugger. At least not in Steph's experience. Maybe back in the day, when he took in the first Robin and made him his son, there could have been good night or happy birthday hugs. Steph doesn't know. She's never asked. (She doesn't want to know the answer.) She's not one of Bruce's kids, though, no matter that she wears his symbol on her chest.

"You okay?" It might be Dick instead of Bruce hugging her, but he still sounds like Batman.

Her answer is muffled against his chest, so he pulls back a little, just far enough for her to tip her head back and meet the white-out lenses in the cowl. "Yeah," she says. "Just not used to being hugged by Batman."

His mouth curves in a smile, which is just adding to the weirdness of it all. She's not sure Bruce has ever smiled at her even without the cowl on. Seeing Dick's grin beneath it now is kind of breaking her brain. "Maybe you should get used to it," he says. His hands slide down her arms, gently, checking for injuries. 

"Yeah?" She smiles back. 

"Think of me as the kinder, gentler Batman."

She laughs and pats him on his heavily armored chest. "Will do, boss."

"You sure you're okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, by the way."

"S'what I'm here for."

"I know. But thanks anyway. It was," she tries to find the right word, "nice." That doesn't really describe it though, so she tries again. "I felt...safe."

"Good." He steps back and shoots his grappling line and is gone before she can say anything else. The new Batman might smile and hug, but he still always needs to have the last word. That, at least, hasn't changed.

*

2.

Steph had caught sight of the Brat Wonder from her hospital room--Robin, she amends, even if it's only in her own head, because he did come to see her, sort of, which is more than anyone else did. And she knows all the reasons for that, but it still makes her feel like the unwanted stepchild at the Batfamily picnic. 

So it's a surprise when, on her first day back to school, she goes to pay for her morning hazelnut macchiato at Sundollar and the cute guy in front of her (she's spent her time in line admiring his super fine ass) says, "I'll pay for hers, too." He turns and flashes her a familiar smile.

She can't help but smile back and say, "Thank you." He's waiting outside when she exits the coffee shop, so she says it again. "No, really, I mean it."

He wraps an arm around her shoulders and gives her a squeeze. He smells really good and his body is warm where it's pressed against hers. "Babs said not to send flowers, so a 'glad you're not dead' fancy coffee seems like the least I could do."

"I appreciate it," she replies. "I'm glad I'm not dead, too."

He squeezes her again and whispers, "Good job, Batgirl," before he lets her go. He walks off whistling, and she doesn't even pretend she's not admiring the view.

*

3.

Steph is kind of honored when Dick asks her for a team-up. She's not usually the one he calls, though she knows he worked with both Babs and Cass when they were Batgirl.

"So what you really needed was bait," she says after he explains the plan to her.

He shrugs sheepishly but says, "All the girls he's kidnapped have been blonde and," he's not wearing the cowl yet so she can see his gaze dip down to her boobs before it flicks back to her face, "busty."

She can feel the flush climbing her cheeks and she wants to cross her arms over her chest, but she doesn't. "Okay," she says, "but I'm not going to be completely unarmed out there." At the very least, she's going to wear her steel-toed boots.

"Of course not," he says, "and I'll be there the whole time." He doesn't offer any other reassurances. He's Batman and she's Batgirl. It should be enough. They both know better than to expect a milk run, though. Not in Gotham. 

But even with the unexpected henchmen, it doesn't go too badly. 

"I thought you said this guy worked alone," she murmurs as three guys surround her in the alleyway. "I hate it when they change MOs."

"You're doing fine," Dick answers, his voice warm and encouraging in her ear. It's hard to think of him as Batman when he sounds like that.

"Seriously, is there a temp agency for goons? Couldn't we just shut it down at the source?" she asks breathlessly after she knees one of them in the crotch and elbows a second one in the face. She's rewarded with a soft huff of laughter in her ear before Batman swoops to her rescue.

By the end of the fight, she's got a split lip and scraped knuckles and her new raincoat is shredded to pieces, but the bad guys are zip-tied and ready for pickup by the police, and the streets are slightly safer for everyone.

She gives the two uniforms a statement, glad that at least she doesn't have to face Detective Gage, and refuses their offer of a ride home. When she turns the corner, Batman swoops out of the darkness and scoops her up. She can't help her little squeak of surprise, which makes him laugh.

"You okay?" 

"Yeah," she says. "I think so. My raincoat, on the other hand..." She gestures at the shreds of it dangling from the belt around her waist with the remains of it on her left arm.

"Alfred will take care of it." He gives her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "Thanks."

"I'm always happy to help."

His smile is warm, and even though she can't see his eyes, she can sense his approval. "I'll keep that in mind."

Two days later, she has a much nicer (purple) raincoat waiting for her when she gets to the cave, along with a thank you note from Dick and a PS from Alfred to let him know if she didn't like it or it didn't fit properly, and he would find something that did. She writes a note in response, telling them she loves it. She certainly doesn't pretend, not even for a moment, when she shrugs it on and pulls the belt tight around her waist, that Dick is hugging her again.

*

4.

Dick is on his way out when Steph arrives at the cave. "Oh," he says, turning back to face her. "You should come to my birthday party. Tomorrow night at seven at the penthouse. Don't worry about a gift."

"I thought your birthday party was last weekend. There was a whole thing in the Gotham Gazette. It even got its own entry on ONTD."

He laughs softly. "That was a fundraiser. This is just the family and a few close friends."

Something warm blooms in her chest at being considered a close enough friend to be invited.

It's only the day of the party that she realizes she doesn't know what to wear--Tim just looks confused when she asks him, and Babs is no help. "It's not formal," she says. "You'll be fine in whatever you wear to class."

She makes Cass sit through a viewing of her outfits, though Cass looks almost as confused as Tim. "It's not a date," she says between mouthfuls of ice cream. "You don't have to dress up."

"You're right," Steph says, flushing. She feels like an idiot. Dick was just being nice.

Still, when she hands Alfred her raincoat, he gives her an approving nod and she smiles in return, even though she's only wearing her good jeans and a cozy sweater. It might be the first day of spring, but March in Gotham is still chilly.

Bruce is chatting with Selina and Commissioner Gordon, and Tim and Cass are arguing with Babs about the latest episode of Dog Cops. She hurries by to avoid being spoiled--thanks to her abnormal pysch class and Gotham's unrelenting criminal class, she's three weeks behind. Alfred disappears into the kitchen and Dick is nowhere to be seen. Damian is scowling at the other person in the living room, and Steph swallows down her surprise at seeing him there. 

"Hi," she says, sitting down next to him and offering a hand. "You must be Jason." He glances down at her hand and then up at her face, and he looks like such a confused puppy that she has to laugh. "I'm Steph. I've heard a lot about you."

"I bet," he says, but it's more wry than angry, his mouth quirking in a small half-grin, and he shakes her hand. Damian makes a disapproving noise and pushes his way in between them, which makes Jason snicker. "Gotta leave room for the Holy Spirit, huh, kid?"

"Hmph." Damian rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest, like the world's tiniest, strictest chaperone. If he didn't look so much like his father, Steph would laugh.

Dick comes into the room then, smiling brightly at all of them. He comes over to where Damian, Steph, and Jason are sitting, with Tim trailing behind him. "I'm so glad you all came," he says, sitting on the arm of the sofa next to Steph and wrapping an arm around her shoulders. Steph lets herself lean into his warmth for just a few seconds. "Us Robins have to stick together, huh?" His proud smile includes all of them, and Steph can see her own startlement mirrored on Jason's face.

The rest of the evening passes in a blur of laughter and Alfred's roast chicken (and sparkling cider for a birthday toast, since none of them are going to drink tonight), followed by a strawberry shortcake large enough to feed an army. Bruce stands up after a few bites, though, a signal all of them recognize. Time to go to work.

Dick helps her with her coat as they're getting ready to leave. "It's a good color on you."

"Thanks. Alfred really does have the best taste."

Dick gives her another hug before he lets her out the door, and she thinks she's not the only one who holds on just a little longer than usual. She rides back to the cave with Babs and Cass, feeling as fizzy as if she'd actually had champagne. Not even Clayface can keep her from smiling, even though she ends up with mud in her hair and other uncomfortable places.

*

5.

When Steph gets the notification that she's made the Dean's List for the first time, she proudly shows it to everyone she knows. She doesn't expect her mother to insist on going to the reception Gotham University hosts every semester for Dean's List honorees. 

"We should celebrate your awesomeness more often," Mom says.

"I can't disagree with that," Steph says with a laugh, "but it's going to be horrible."

"You don't know that."

"Not for sure, no, but it's a pretty good bet." She wrinkles her nose. "There'll be a few trays of fancy hors d'oeurves but not enough to make a full dinner, and a boring speech from the Dean."

"We can go out to eat after," her mother says, and Steph can't say no when her mother is beaming at her with pride, even if this month's budget shouldn't really be stretched to include a celebratory dinner. 

The boring speech is over and the hors d'oeurves have barely started making the rounds when a costumed figure with two tanks strapped to his back and two spray guns in his hands leaps into room.

"I never made the Dean's List when I was a student here," he yells, spraying the room with what appears to be ketchup. Steph surreptitiously sticks the tip of her finger in it and smells. Yup. Ketchup. Thankfully. "I never even graduated. Dean Redmond said I couldn't cut the mustard. Now I'm here to relish my revenge." 

Steph's mom nudges her and murmurs, "Go on, dear," but Steph isn't exactly sure what she can do, since she has no mask and no weapons. Her mouth twists in a thoughtful frown as she does a quick inventory. She comes up with two pointy wood skewers from the chicken satay (already eaten, luckily) and a butterfly knife in her boot.

"You couldn't have interrupted during the speeches?" she says, edging forward and silently kissing her second favorite blouse goodbye when he swings the ketchup gun in her direction. 

She grabs a tray from a shocked waitress, sparing only a moment to mourn the bruschetta that gets tossed aside before she flings it like a discus at him. It hits him right in the forehead and he staggers back, stunned for long enough that she can get in a kick to his groin and a punch to his jaw. He wilts like the lettuce on a day-old BLT.

"Ow, ow, ow." Steph shakes her hand like it stings way worse than it does, like she's not used to punching much more dangerous criminals on the regular. 

"Let me look at that," her mother says, sounding both fond and concerned. She tugs Steph over to the bar and puts some ice on her knuckles while the campus police converge.

"You must be very proud," the Dean says.

"Yes," her mother replies. "My girl has quite the right hook."

"And then we went out for dinner," she tells Wendy and Babs once she's in the cave. "And I didn't even have to come up with a terrible pun about mayonnaise."

"Thank goodness for that," Babs says dryly, but she's smiling and Steph knows she's made her proud. It seems to be the night for it.

One semester on the Dean's List at Gotham U isn't a law degree from Harvard in her spare time, but Steph isn't Babs, just like she wasn't Tim (or Dick or Jason) when she was Robin. She's okay with that now.

The night is relatively uneventful. Jason blows up the meth lab she was planning to raid, and Tim busts up the Penguin's latest plan to bring more guns into Gotham. So Batgirl patrols near campus. She beats up a couple of muggers and warns off some would-be fratboy rapists who won't leave a drunk co-ed alone. 

It's almost dawn when she calls it a night, but there's an extra shadow looming on the wall beside her bedroom window, which resolves into Batman when it moves.

"Hey," he says, voice modulator off, though she'd know it was Dick anyway--he's not as tall as Bruce and there's something graceful in his movements that Bruce, for all his training, lacks.

She smiles. "Hi. You wanna come in? There could be pancakes." It's so much easier now that her mother knows she's Batgirl. 

"Well, then, I won't waffle," he answers, and follows her through the window, grinning at her groan.

"Please, no more food puns. The Condiment King crashed my thing tonight, and I just can't." She strips off her gauntlets and sits down on her bed to pull off her boots. She gets the left one off and then is distracted when he speaks again.

"Ah yes, the destroyer of Denny's and scourge of Sonic." Dick pushes back the cowl and his hair sticks up in little sweaty spikes. She curls her fingers into fists so she doesn't give into the urge to smooth it down. "I guess it's something of a tradition. He busted up my first date with Babs."

"No way!"

"Yes, way." He pushes a hand through his hair so she doesn't have to and his mouth twists in an expression she can't identify, and then he snorts softly. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know we're all really proud of you." He takes off his gauntlets and tucks them into his belt. "I dropped out of Hudson, you know. It didn't seem important with everything else that was going on, and I was having a hard time keeping up."

"I find that hard to believe." She finally remembers to take her other boot off and unzips her suit. She's got a unitard on underneath for modesty, so she just pulls on the extra large Gotham Knights t-shirt she sleeps in and then puts her hair up into a ponytail. 

"It's true," he says, sitting next to her. The weight of his body on the mattress tilts her towards him. Or that's the excuse she gives herself, anyway. "Hi," he says again, leaning towards her. His breath smells minty. His fingers tipping her chin up is the only warning she gets, though she could easily pull away if she wanted to. He's not holding her at all, except with the heat of his gaze, which has dropped to her mouth.

"Hi," she whispers, and then he's kissing her, and he tastes minty, too, and underneath that there's a warm sweetness to the way he kisses, firm and slow and thorough. It makes her toes curl and her body flush, and now she gives into the urge to run her fingers through his hair. "Don't you want pancakes?" she asks breathlessly when they finally move apart to get some air. "I think I promised you pancakes."

"Makeouts first," he says, because he's better than she is at prioritizing.

"Okay," she says, smiling as he pulls her into his lap. "Sounds like a plan." 

end


End file.
